


Give Me a Guide; Give Me a Home

by mckinlily



Series: These Bonds We Build [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Foster Care, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro is not a real adult but he's trying His Best, We've got both, frankly everyone has some PTSD, high school/college au, paladins are self-adopted siblings, the others are...trying, they just show it in different ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mckinlily/pseuds/mckinlily
Summary: Shiro is just your typical college freshmen, worried about completing his homework, keeping his scholarship......and raising his four teenaged siblings he has custody of. It's fine. He's fine. Absolutely nothing is wrong here.
Relationships: Allura & Shiro (Voltron), Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Shiro & Voltron Paladins
Series: These Bonds We Build [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882813
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	Give Me a Guide; Give Me a Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to be respectful and also pulling from my own experiences fighting mental health, but both Shiro and Lance experience panic attacks here. If you think that's something that will bother you, please do what you need to keep yourself safe. And let me know if there's something you would like me to tag.

All in all, it was a fairly typical day of Shiro’s freshman college experience.

“Hey, did you catch what the homework was?”

Shiro was trying quickly to stuff his notes into his backpack after class and check his phone at the same time. There were two notifications from the local high school: one missed call and one voice mail.

“Huh, what?”

A voicemail. That wasn’t good. Also someone (Shiro was guessing Pidge) had changed the name in his phone to “OUR EVIL OVERLORD.”

… it was probably a bad sign he had the high school number on his speed dial, wasn’t it?

“—so should do reading for real this time.”

Oh shoot, his classmate was still talking to him.

“Uh, aren’t all the readings up on the website?” said Shiro, trying to look like he wasn’t blowing off his classmate—what was his name, again? Bryan? Brent?— while simultaneously anxiously anticipating why his siblings’ high school had called him.

**From: Big Brother Knows All**

_Roll call. Who has the phone right now?_

Inconveniently Talkative Classmate didn’t seem to feel blown off at least, but he had so _not_ gotten the message that he leaned over the back of the row of seats in front of Shiro to keep talking.

“Yeah, but I’m thinking maybe I’m missing something because I keep missing points on the reading quizzes. There must be a trick to it.”

“They seem straight forward to me,” said Shiro distractedly.

“Seriously? The trick questions don’t trip you up?”

“Um, I guess not,” said Shiro because that was better than saying he didn’t _do_ the readings. Textbook expenses were, well, _expensive_ , and he hadn’t accounted for them when he planned out his year. At least this semester he knew about buying online instead of the bookstore rip off, and still that wasn’t enough to cover everything. So he made due with what he had, and bullshitted his way through the rest. Besides, the quizzes seemed easy enough to Shiro.

Or maybe Shiro was just good at guessing multiple choice. The only reason he was _in_ college at all was because he had scraped a 36 on the ACT. That miracle score was the sole key to his scholarship and any chance of attending.

**From: The Phone**

_it’s me_

_Hunk, I mean_

_is something wrong?_

**From: Big Brother Knows All**

_I was hoping you knew_

_Just got a call from the school_

“Oh, really?” Rather than be deterred by Shiro’s mumbled reply, Incredibly Oblivious Classmate leaned forward more. “Do you think you could help me? I really don’t know what the professor is looking for. Oh! We could be study buddies!”

“Uh…”

**From: The Phone**

_oh no_

_i mean no, i don’t know_

_also that sounds bad_

_it wasn’t me i only corrected the chem teacher ONCE today_

Shiro’s eyebrows shot up. He’d thought Hunk’s vendetta against the chemistry teacher had finally cooled down. Add that to the list of things to worry about today and—

Hunk’s next text, something about the proper explanation of orbitals, disappeared under the high school’s incoming call.

“Um, sorry, I’ve got to take this,” said Shiro waving his phone with an apologetic smile. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried out of the classroom, eyes darting for a quiet corner. Not much of a chance during passing period, but Shiro had an eye for them now. He elbowed his way to the nook behind the vending machine.

Shiro took a quick breath to steel himself and pressed accept.

“Takashi Shirogane speaking.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Shirogane, sir.” The school’s secretary seemed to be under the impression Shiro was a military veteran. To be fair, the prosthetic arm and massive scar across his face could suggest that. The white bangs certainly made him look older. Shiro would feel bad for the misconception if he weren’t afraid how her tone would change once she realized how young he actually was.

And, well, Shiro desperately needed any advantage he could get.

In the background, Shiro could hear the secretary’s pen click. “I’m calling to let you know your charge is truant.”

Shiro exhaled and tried to remain calm. “Which one?” he said, resigned.

“Oh. Ah, Keith Kogane.”

Of course it was. If Keith was hiding on the school roof again, Shiro was going to kill him. “And you’re sure you haven’t just missed him?”

“We’ve checked everywhere. Keith is not on school property. I’m sorry, Mr. Shirogane. I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but this is not the first time Keith has been truant this semester. Our attendance policy says—”

“I’m familiar with your attendance policy.”

Shiro realized he’d snapped at the secretary and winced. _None of your temper, Shirogane._ He leveled his tone. “I appreciate you reminding me. But are you sure that this is truancy? Keith could just be late getting back from lunch.”

He most definitely was not, but if Shiro could get him out of this one, they might be able to avoid the ensuing power struggle of escalating punishments.

“Mr. Shirogane, I understand the reluctance to think ill of your child, but really with _Keith_ …”

Shiro ground his teeth to bite back all the words he had for _anyone_ who looked down on his precious little brother. He breathed through his nose. Yelling wouldn’t help Keith right now.

“I understand.” Breathe. “But would you give me an hour to check?” _Don’t beg. Stay calm. They have to believe you’re reasonable._ “I just want to make sure this isn’t a misunderstanding.”

Shiro could hear the secretary sigh through her teeth. He was well familiar with the sound of overworked public servant. Fifteen years of social workers had taught him that.

“Fine,” she said. “I’d rather not write up another kid today if I don’t have to. But if he’s not here by next period, I wouldn’t have a choice.”

“Of course. Is—” Shiro stopped himself short, realizing that if Lance or Pidge were missing as well, he didn’t want to be the one to bring that to her attention. “Is that all?”

“Yes. Have a nice day, Mr. Shirogane.”

Well, he was having an _interesting_ one in any case.

**From: Big Brother Knows All**

_Sorry not everyone is as good at chemistry as you hunk_

_Are pidge and lance still in class?_

**From: The Phone**

_i’ll check_

_wait. why didn’t you ask about keith?_

_he ditched again didn’t he_

**From: Big Brother Knows All**

_Looks like it_

While he waited for Hunk to get back, Shiro looked at the time on his phone, running calculations. He had a two hour break between this and his next class, and he’d hoped to spend that time working on his physics homework. What was the phrase? It’s only a plan until it happens.

**From: The Phone**

_I asked shay who has plaxum’s number who’s in lance’s class_

_she says he’s in class although apparently he’s in trouble for making a sword out of markers_

_Also messaged pidge. she’s in class but she’s mad keith didn’t take her with him_

Shiro took a moment to wonder how Hunk messaged Pidge seeing as they only had one phone for the four of them (Shiro could only afford two cell phone bills, and even that was pushing it when Lance racked up data charges). But then he remembered that Pidge had a typing class. How Pidge, who had been coding since she was _eight_ , managed to end up in _typing class_ Shiro would never understand, but Pidge had fought him when he tried to move her out of the class, claiming she needed the dedicated “bonding time” with the computers, and Shiro made it a point not to fight battles with her that he wouldn’t win. In any case, he wasn’t surprised Pidge had managed to download whatever messaging app she wanted until the pretense of “typing.”

**From: Big Brother Knows All**

_Tell pidge tough luck. Education is important_

_Or the high school diploma is at least_

_Anything I should know about keith before I track him down?_

**From: The Phone**

_…I don’t think so? Sometimes school just gets to him_

_Pidge says “tell shiro to stop being a dad”_

_But she’s staying in class_

_apparently she “has plans”_

**From: Big Brother Knows All**

_well that’s not ominous_

Shiro put Pidge out of his mind. She was always planning something and only fifty percent of the time was it illegal. Keith was _currently_ doing something illegal. Shiro briefly mourned his completed physics homework and ran to the bus station.

Shiro didn’t live on campus. He didn’t even live relatively _near_ campus. No way could he afford that rent, especially when his roommates consisted four high schoolers. He also took public transportation because, again, no way to afford paying for parking.

Which meant he had plenty of time to worry as he swayed and was jostled on his way home. He thought he knew where Keith would be, but what if he was wrong? What if Keith was in trouble? He could have gotten kidnapped. Or arrested. Or gotten into a fist fight with daytime poker players (again). Maybe he forgot he hated alcohol and ended drunk in a ditch somewhere and what if someone found him like that? What if someone _didn’t_?

Shiro repeatedly squeezed and released his prosthetic fist, not realizing how tightly he was clentching until he caught an old lady staring at his metal hand. He released his fist and forced his hand stay flat until they reached his stop.

As soon as the bus was out of sight, Shiro burst into a sprint, dodging the spots of ice on the dilapidated sidewalk. The lock to his apartment building had long since stopped working, so Shiro burst through and took the stairs up two at a time.

The apartment was empty, but Shiro ignored that and walked straight through the cramped living room to the tetanus-hazard of the balcony.

“Keith.”

Keith was perched on the railing, one leg hanging over the edge into oblivion. He barely looked up through his too long bangs.

“Shiro.”

“Keith.”

“ _Shiro_ ,” repeated Keith, exaggerating Shiro’s tone.

“You’re supposed to be in class.”

Keith shrugged. “Meh.”

Shiro shoved down the frustration welling inside of him. How many times did they have to have this conversation? “Keith, you have to go to school.”

Keith flicked his bangs out of his eyes because he _still_ refused to let anyone cut his hair. “Why? It’s stupid.”

“It’s the _law._ ”

"The law is stupid, too.”

Shiro hated when Keith got like this. He understood where Keith was coming from—of course he did, he’d been fifteen and lonely and angry once, too—but it didn’t make it any less frustrating to deal with. Especially when he could see exactly _why_ he was like this. How hard would it be for people to give his brother a _chance_?

“Keith, I know high school sucks. Okay? I’m not asking you to like it, but this is the bare minimum. I don’t care what you do after, but you _have_ to graduate high school.”

“Why? So I don’t become another statistic?” jeered Keith. “Oh look, the great Takashi Shirogane graduated all of his foster kids. Shouldn’t we all bow down and worship him?”

“That’s not what this is about,” Shiro bit out. “I want what’s best for you—”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, best for me, huh? I haven’t heard _that_ one before. Which is it going to be, a broken arm or just no dinner for a week?”

"Keith, that’s abuse. I wouldn’t do that.” Shiro hated how often he had to repeat that. That. Was. _Abuse._

“So you’re just going to put me in a corner and ignore me?”

“ _Keith_ …”

“They don’t care!” Keith flung his hands in the air. “None of the teachers _care_ that I’m there! They just want to get rid of me. Why should I care?”

“Because this isn’t _about_ them!” Shiro burst out. “It’s not about your teachers or your social worker or any adult that tells you what to do. It’s about _you_ and you deserve better than to throw your life away because some idiots refused to like you!”

“Maybe I don’t care! Maybe I WANT to throw my life away! No one else cares!”

“ _I_ CARE!” snapped Shiro, stomping forward. “ _I_ care about you! I care whether you end up homeless and lost or somewhere you can actually be happy! That’s all this is. I want you to be _happy_.”

Keith looked away, bangs covering his face. His shoulders slumped.

Shiro moved slowly, telegraphing his movements, making sure Keith saw him before he made contact and touched his shoulder.

“Look, Keith,” said Shiro. “I know this is hard. I know high school is…kind of miserable, really. But you’re over halfway through this year. And after, this it’s only two more years until you’re free. You can do it. I know you can.”

Keith's lip jutted out the same way it had since he was six. “What if I can’t? What if I’m not made to—to be happy?”

He darted a look up at Shiro, and that was Shiro’s little brother, the one with a such a big, _good_ heart that had been kicked around and bruised too many times despite Shiro’s best attempts to protect it.

“You can,” said Shiro because he _had_ to believe it. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was his siblings. After all they had survived and been through, they _had_ be happy. Someday.

Shiro couldn’t fail them again.

“I know it’s hard to believe for yourself, so believe me,” said Shiro, squeezing Keith’s shoulder. “I know you, and I _know_ you can do this. You can finish high school and you can be happy. I believe in you.”

Keith breathed out, breath puffing in a soft cloud in front of him. His lips were tinged blue—exactly how long had he been outside in the cold like this?

(Why couldn’t Shiro’s siblings ever make _reasonable_ bad decisions? Or at least non-life-threatening ones?)

“Okay,” said Keith. He slumped off the balcony railing not like he believed Shiro but like he’d given up fighting. Shiro wished he knew how to make Keith see himself the way Shiro saw him. Once, Keith had lit up at any praise from Shiro, but lately that ability seemed to be slipping. Shiro had to settle for just getting them through another day.

“C’mon. I’ll give you a ride back to school.”

Keith scowled. “I can get there myself.”

“Kiddo, I told the school you just got lost coming back from lunch. That excuse isn’t going to work if you barely show up in time for last period.”

“ _Fine_ ,” huffed Keith. He stomped back into the apartment. “But you’re being ridiculous!”

Shiro let out a long sigh.

Keith returned to school, angry and surly but at least physically present. Shiro managed talk the school out of giving him detention, and Keith slouched to his biology class. Shiro checked time. If traffic was good (never a good bet in Boston), but if it was, he might be able to work out the guitar string problem before his next class. He was on his way back to his car, trying to remember the equation for the velocity of waves on a string, when he heard the clattering of heels behind him.

“Mr. Shirogane! I’m sorry, we need you to come back in!”

Had Keith escaped again _already_?

“Did Keith…?”

“Oh no. It’s—”

From inside the principal’s office, Pidge stuck her head out and waved with a smile that only meant trouble.

“For the record,” said Shiro, tucking Pidge under his arm after over half an hour deflecting and lying through his teeth just to keep Pidge from getting turned over to the authorities. “Accessing other student’s grades isn’t only illegal. It’s a huge invasion of privacy and _extremely_ unethical.”

“Oh, like I haven’t hacked private records before,” huffed Pidge.

Shiro sighed.

“You were for it before!” Pidge continued in a quiet hiss. “You didn’t have a problem when we needed leverage for the—”

Shiro cut her off with a shake of his head and a pointed look. The benefit of surviving multiple foster homes and social workers together was they had gotten quite good at nonverbal communication.

“You didn’t have a problem _then_ ,” Pidge finished in a lower voice.

Shiro resisted the urge to groan. Yes, they had used every resource available to them a year ago when Shiro was fighting for custody of all of them. Yes, not all that had been strictly legal. Shiro still maintained it was the right thing to do. He _had_ to take care of his siblings; no one else was going to.

And adults never liked Shiro if they got to know him too well.

But that wasn’t what Pidge was doing here.

“Look. Sometimes you have to do things that I’d really rather not. But that’s not something to be taken lightly. You have to have a good reason.”

“I had a good reason,” pouted Pidge.

“A reason to shoot your classmate’s privacy to hell?” said Shiro bluntly. “Pidge, this isn’t about it being illegal. This is about potentially hurting kids just like you. And for what reason?”

Pidge folded her arms. “I _had_ a reason,” she repeated. “They weren’t going to get hurt.”

“You don’t know that,” said Shiro. “People trust that they can choose to keep their grades private, and you broke that.”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Pidge burst out. “I wasn’t going _share_ everyone’s information. I just wanted to prove that I could!”

Shiro raised his eyebrows.

Pidge mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Mrs. Dyllan thinks that I’m stupid,” said Pidge, barely more audible. “Just because my other history classes didn’t teach us the same things! She keeps ‘reminding’ me about how to do a five-paragraph essay like I’m too stupid to get it. And when I do write something, she accuses me of plagiarism. She doesn’t think I know anything!”

“Ah.”

“I just wanted to prove to her I’m not an idiot. I’m smarter than _she_ is.”

Shiro squeezed Pidge’s shoulders tight. “You are smart. You’re brilliant. And you don’t need to prove yourself to any history teacher because what she thinks can’t change that.”

“She’ll only fail me, and then I’ll have to repeat the stupid class all over again.”

“Hey, no. Keep your head down and do the assignments, and you’ll pass the class. It will be over soon.”

Pidge wrinkled her nose at him, proving exactly what she thought of that idea.

“Try?” pleaded Shiro. “For me?”

Pidge grumbled. “I’m not stupid,” she said, and Shiro hated that there was any doubt in her voice.

“You really aren’t. She shouldn’t treat you like that. But…”

But teachers were just like that. They picked their favorites and the ones they thought would succeed, and there was little you could do to change that. Shiro fought tirelessly to prove he could be one of those, and even he didn’t succeed until he aged out of the system and his college professors couldn’t know his background. Could never be allowed to know.

“Just don’t hurt your classmates along the way,” said Shiro. “It’s not their fault either.”

Pidge’s frown said she didn’t think much of her classmates either, but she sighed. “Okay.” She pulled out from under Shiro’s arm. “Guess I better get back to class. Thanks for sticking up for me, Shiro.”

“Always,” promised Shiro as she walked away.

Speaking of class… Shiro checked the time on his phone.

Crap.

“You’re late,” said Dr. Wyatt, pausing in his presentation when Shiro attempted to slip in unnoticed. “ _Again_.”

Shiro winced and mouthed “Sorry” as he edged his way to an open seat in the back row. Dr. Wyatt turned back to his lecture notes with a frown.

Shiro had to climb over a girl in a puffy Canada Goose jacket and Hunter boots to get to the nearest empty seat, and she huffed at him as he shuffled over. “You know, there’s a lot of people who are still on the waiting list for this class." 

_“I made you great.”_ Unbidden, the remembered voice bubbled up in his head.

Shiro swallowed and tried to focus on pulling out his notebook.

_“I saved your life. Made you stronger than you started! And **this** is how you replay me?”_

Shiro’s natural hand was shaking. His prosthetic didn’t, but he could still imagine the shooting pain down the nerves that used to be there.

“Sheesh, you can’t even pay attention?” mumbled the girl, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

_Ungrateful. Worthless. Wasted._

Focus, Shiro told himself. Focus, focus, _focus **!**_ He couldn’t afford a panic attack now. Not when he had already been late. Dr. Wyatt taught a fascinating class, but he wasn’t lenient.

Come on, Shirogane. You can _do this._

Shiro’s natural hand was shaking too badly to take notes. He’d have to use his prosthetic, but the metal fingers were awkward with such delicate movements. It’d be so much easier if he could just _type_ , but that would require having a functional laptop. Or access to a computer at all that wasn’t kludged together by Hunk and Pidge with repurposed parts.

_Broken pieces. Torn apart and sown back together. Tap, tap, tap of Honerva’s pen against her notepad. “Interesting…”_

Not **_now_**! Shiro screamed inside his head. _FOCUS._

Dr. Wyatt was talking about mosaics in the Byzantine Empire. Write that down. His heart was beating too fast and panic was fluttering in his stomach, but he wrestled those feelings to a strangle hold. Focus. Just…get through the class. Write down notes so he had _something_ to look back on when he needed to study and had forgotten everything Dr. Wyatt said. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

_No one can know._

Shiro grit his teeth and battled his way through class.

“Ugh, they got my order wrong. Shiro, do you want the rest?”

Shiro looked up from his physics textbook and blinked. “How did you get a _milkshake_ into the library?”

“Oh, they never check,” waved Allura, plopping down at the study table across from Shiro. She pushed the offending milkshake towards Shiro. “Romelle said one time her cousin brought a panini maker into the periodicals section and had a whole sandwich bar going before anyone noticed.”

“Oh.”

Allura, who had been in the process of pulling out her laptop, paused. “Shiro, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Shiro immediately.

Allura gently closed her laptop and pushed it to the side. She nudged her milkshake towards him a little more. “Are you sure? And please drink that, otherwise it’s going to get all melty and gross.”

Shiro obediently took the milkshake. It wasn’t until he took the first sip that he realized he hadn’t properly eaten all day. Huh. Did Allura know that?

At first glance, Allura didn’t look like someone Shiro would expect to be friends with. She dressed in forefront of fashion, today her sliver-white hair up with a high-ponytail, and wore the impression of _money_ with the kind of effortlessness that name brands and the newest iPhone could never manage. _She_ belonged at Harvard. Both her parents had attended and her grandfather before that. She was a legacy child, the kind of person who was expected to “go places” (and, if you knew Allura at all, absolutely _would_ and then some). She shone, as much with her looks as her competitiveness and fierce intelligence. She should have been leagues above Shiro.

And maybe she still was, but in a campus filled with undergraduates whose biggest concerns were 8:00 AM classes and how many beers they could drink before getting black out drunk, she _got it_. Her eyes softened as she looked him over. “Is your family all right?

She was probably the best friend Shiro had ever had.

“They’re… well.” Shiro sighed. “Keith ditched school again today. And Pidge decided to hack the school’s database where they keep all the student’s grades and personal information so I had to talk her out of getting arrested. Oh, and Hunk’s reignited his grudge against his chemistry teacher.”

“I like Hunk,” declared Allura.

Despite everything, Shiro smiled. “Yeah, he’s a sweetheart. Can’t stand to let people be wrong though.”

“Oh, and what’s wrong with that?” said Allura who had a very similar tendency herself, and Shiro laughed.

Quietly, though. They were still in the library.

“But what about you?” Allura continued. “How are you doing?”

Shiro’s nerves were still jittery after his panic in the last class, but he didn’t intend to tell anyone that.

“It’s fine.”

Allura gentled her voice. “Are you still having trouble with your thoughts?”

Shiro winced. Was it that obvious?

“It’s nothing. Really.”

He quickly busied himself with drinking the milkshake.

Allura traced out the stickers on her laptop. “You know, I was just thinking… Have you thought about talking to someone about it?”

Shiro squeezed the milkshake so hard the lid popped off and milkshake squirted out the sides.

No. _No._ If he—If someone found out—They’d _know._ They’d see he didn’t he didn’t belong here. They’d kick him out.

They would take away his _kids._

“Shiro… _Shiro_.” Allura touched Shiro’s shaking hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Here, this will help clean up.”

Allura produced a napkin out of nowhere, and Shiro took it without thinking. Inside, his heart was still racing. They couldn’t take his siblings away from him. He’d promised that he’d take care of them, that they wouldn’t have to go back in the system again. He’d _promised._

Allura spoke gently. “I just meant, campus offers free counselors if you…”

But Shiro was already shaking his head.

“I-I can’t. Allura, I _can’t_.”

“Okay,” said Allura soothingly. “Shiro, I’d never force you to do something you didn’t want to. I just thought it could help.”

Maybe for someone else. Someone _normal_ like the kids who were worried about their grades or living on their own for the first time. But Shiro was a different kind of broken, and once they realized that…

Allura deftly wiped down the side of the milkshake and sat it back down next to Shiro. Her eyes were kind. “In any case, I hope you know you can always talk to me. I would be happy to listen.”

Shiro did know. Allura was the only person who even knew about his mental problems and who didn’t judge him for it. He knew she’d be there for him if he asked.

“Thanks, Allura,” he said. “Sorry for freaking out on you.”

“It’s no more than what you’d do for me,” said Allura, which it was true. That was why they worked.

It was just that Shiro needed the help so much more often than Allura did.

“So what’s this about the latest club you’re joining,” he said, finally giving in and just licking the milkshake off his fingers. “Have you taken over campus yet?”

“I am _not_ trying to ‘take over campus.’ I’m _involved_ ,” corrected Allura, shooting Shiro a look that said she knew he was teasing and was not impressed. She still took the opportunity to start monologuing though. “It’s just Black History Month is next month, and they needed the help…”

Shiro grinned and settled in to listen to the newest way Allura was going to rain social justice on their campus.

Talking to Allura helped. It almost always did. This was why she was his best friend despite their different circumstances. She gave him a quick hug before he took off to the bus station again. “Tell your family I said hi!”

“They’re waiting for you to come visit again,” said Shiro. He sighed as he added, “Especially Lance.”

“Oh, Lance _,_ ” sighed Allura. Honestly, why she still agreed—even seemed to look forward to—visiting them after Lance’s repeated and repeatedly terrible attempts to hit on her was a mystery. Shiro had _tried_ to talk to Lance about it. On multiple occasions. It just hadn’t stuck yet.

Allura flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “Well, I hope he’s doing well, too,” she said primly. “And that his latest girlfriend is less of a thief that the last.” 

Shiro winced. “Well, we can _hope_.”

Allura laughed as she waved and set off for her dorms. Sometimes Shiro wondered if he should ask her to come over more often. They all liked her. Even Keith was warming up to her, and he was the hardest sell when it came to new people. But then he thought of the cramped apartment and the kind of mess only possible from four teenagers and no real adult and just how _much_ they all were and thought better of it. Allura knew where they lived. She could come over when she wanted to.

In the meantime, there was the five of them which was honestly more than enough for the tiny two-bedroom apartment. Shiro came home to Hunk muttering about limited ingredients in the kitchen and a quick stab of guilt. (Someday Shiro was going to buy Hunk the entire produce section and every obscure, expensive spice he could think of. He’d make even Hunk believe they had too much food. But right now, they just couldn’t afford it, and he hated that). Pidge and Keith had taken over the living room, sprawled across the beat-up couch they’d found on the side of the road last summer. Pidge was sitting on Keith’s legs with a bunch of old Xbox controllers she’d “rescued” from the dumpster. They didn’t have an Xbox, but Pidge had a theory about bootlegged games and modifications to their PC, and Shiro had long since stopped questioning her. Keith was nominally working on his geometry homework, but he kept looking up and asking Pidge what she was doing which she explained with great delight. Shiro was a little surprised Hunk wasn’t joining it, but maybe he was focused on dinner.

(Or maybe he had already decided what Pidge was trying wouldn’t work, but he wasn’t going to say because he didn’t want to disappoint her. Hunk’s “I told you so”s tended to pop up with his instincts for bad people or dangerous ideas. Not discouraging his little sister.)

Shiro settled down at the rickety card table they used as a kitchen table with the chairs that squeaked with every move he made. It was an unusually peaceful evening. Shiro was two paragraphs into his reading for Dr. Wyatt’s class before he realized what was wrong.

“Guys. Where’s Lance?”

Keith and Pidge looked at each other, met eyes with a combination of surprise and confusion and then shrugged at Shiro.

Crap. Shiro _knew_ it was too quiet. “Did he come home from school with you?”

“Uh…” said Pidge, her nose screwed up.

Hunk poked his head out of the kitchen. “Yeah, he did. Wait, is he not out there with you?”

“Nope,” said Keith.

“I can check our room,” said Pidge. She shared with Hunk and Lance. Shiro and Keith took the other small bedroom. Pidge handed her tangle of cords and tools over to Keith as she got off the couch. A second later she called out, “Nope! Not here!”

“Did he go out somewhere?” said Shiro, heartrate picking up. Of all of them, Lance had the _worst_ instincts for people. If he didn’t tell any of them where he was going, Shiro might be looking for him all night.

“Today was his turn to take out the trash. But he _didn’t_ ,” said Keith, jutting his chin towards their overflowing trashcan.

Shiro figured they could worry about chores delegations later. Where did Lance _go_?

“Ooooooh, you know what?” said Hunk. “I think maybe he was going to the laundry? I left my shirt there yesterday, but I don’t like going in the basement.” Hunk’s shoulders hunched. “It’s creepy.”

Shiro pushed his chair back. “I’ll go look for him. You guys stay here. You have the phone, right?”

Keith pointed to where the phone was lying in the middle of Pidge’s stuff on the floor.

“Okay. I’ve got mine. Call me if you need me or anything changes.”

Shiro grabbed his wallet and his keys and headed for the door.

“You’ll find him, right?” said Hunk, sounding tense.

Shiro smiled with well-practiced ease he didn’t feel. “Yeah, I will. Don’t worry about it.”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, that’s _your_ job.”

Shiro just rolled his eyes and left.

It _was_ his job. One he refused to give up.

They lived on the second (cheapest) floor of an aging apartment building that had last seen a renovation in the early seventies. There were patches of hallway that still had the remnants of shag carpet though the effects of mud and traffic worn into them left it looking the matted fur of a stray mutt. No one could recall the landlord setting foot on the place in at least a decade, and as far as most Shiro’s fellow tenants were concerned, that was a good thing (No one, for instance, to throw a fit about the weed garden Rolo and Nyma were growing in their apartment and on the rooftop). The one good thing the building was that it had a built-in laundry room.

Three barely functional units in the basement alongside cracked concrete and rusty exposed pipes, that is. Hunk wasn’t the only one who found the place creepy, and seeing as Hunk’s instinct for danger had saved them more times than any of them could count, Shiro wasn’t too fond of it either. Shiro wasn’t going to start panicking yet though. Lance had been gone too long to have just been picking up Hunk’s shirt, but he could have just been distracted. Maybe he was playing with the neighbor’s cat? Shiro could hope anyway. Maybe for once things could be _easy…_

But the laundry was empty when Shiro arrived. Shiro pinched his nose. Okay, still no need to panic. Lance could be—

A slight noise pricked Shiro’s attention. He whipped around, skin prickling and senses on alert. It was probably just the building settling, nothing to worry about. Or…

In the shadows under the stairs, Shiro spotted the edge of a familiar, beat-up blue sneaker.

Oh no. Shiro approached carefully, ducking down to get a better view. Following the sneaker led to too-short blue jeans which led to balled up, shaking teenager. Lance had grown quit a lot in the last year; he shouldn’t be able to fit in the tiny space between the bottom stairs and the floor, but somehow he had wedged himself in there, his head between his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs, and muscles trembling.

Oh _no._

Shiro crouched beside him but not making contact and not blocking an escape. He gentled his voice as much as possible. “Lance.”

Lance tried to pull himself even tighter, muscles shaking with effort. Shiro’s heart hurt.

“Lance, buddy. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Lance picked his head up a fraction.

“Shiro?”

His voice sounded impossibly small. So young. At this moment, it was hard for Shiro to not see the little kid he had known when they first met.

“Yeah, it’s me, buddy.” He fought to keep his voice calm and soothing. “Do you know where you are?”

Lance lifted his head another inch, eyes darting around. “The laundry room?” he said. “Boston?” His voice lilted at the end like he wasn’t sure of his answer.

“That’s right,” said Shiro. “You’re okay.”

“O-Okay.” Lance breathed and relaxed just a bit. “I-I-I…”

“Hey.” Shiro left it at that and simply opened his arms.

It took less than a second and then Lance was launching himself at him with enough force to land Shiro on his butt. But that was okay. Shiro wrapped his arms around him while Lance buried his face in his shoulder, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, sorrysorrysorry—”

“Shhhhhh,” soothed Shiro, rubbing Lance’s back. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now. I’m not mad.”

“I—I didn’t _mean_ to—”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Except I kept thinking all day, like, what if Honvera found us here? What if they took us away? And then I was down here and Hunk had just been going on about how creepy it was and I got scared—”

“It’s okay. Lance, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was just _scared_.”

Shiro hated how long he must have been down here, terrified and alone. It was a mark of how bad it must have been for Lance to be admitting to it now instead of covering with false bravado. Shiro squeezed him tight.

“None of that is going to happen, Lance. I promise you. We’re not in Arizona anymore. They can’t take you away.” If only because Shiro would literally die before he’d let that happen. He’d learned his lesson once. He wasn’t going to abandon his family again. “I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere. _Definitely_ not back to Zarkon. I won’t let you.”

Lance choked a laugh and pulled away. He scrubbed his hands over his face though his eyes looked dry.

“How do you do it, Shiro?” he asked finally. “They were even more awful to you, but you’re _fine_. I don’t see you having these moments.”

Shiro swallowed his own bout of hysterical laughter. He didn’t have those moments— _when other people could see him._ Shiro was better _hiding_ his reactions, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have them or even that he was remotely sane when no one was watching him.

But that was his problem, not Lance’s. If Lance believed he was fine, Shiro wouldn’t do a thing to change it.

“It’s easier when you’re out of the system,” he said instead. “I’m an adult now. They can’t make me go back.”

“Yeah. I guess that helps,” said Lance, easily believing him and Shiro only felt a little guilty about that.

“Distraction helps, too,” said Shiro. “You ready to head back?”

Lance chewed his lip but nodded. “Yeah… Oh, but wait! I think I came down here for something—”

After finally retrieving Hunk’s long-lost shirt, they made their way back up the stairs to the apartment. Lance seemed to be perking up to his regular self, and Shiro would be worried about it being a front except, well, Shiro knew for a fact that Lance’s usual personality _was_ a front. He kept his real self deeply hidden from the world. They all did, really, just in their own ways. Maybe that was a problem, but it wasn’t a problem Shiro knew how to solve.

“Hey, did you talk to that one professor?” said Lance when they reached the second floor.

Shiro was brought up short, even if after nearly ten years he should have been used to Lance’s abrupt changes in topic. “Which one?”

“You _knooow_ ,” drew out Lance. “THE professor _._ The one Allura told us about. The one who thinks you’re super smart. Brown or something?”

“Dr. Black?”

“Yeah!” Lance beamed at him. “Did you talk to her?”

“Um.” Dr. Black was a physics professor who won an _actual_ Nobel prize for her work on gravitational waves and who had a reputation in the physics department for being both incredibly intelligent and a notoriously difficult teacher. For some baffling reason she had reached out specifically to _Shiro_ to offer him a position as a research assistant, and Shiro still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Why do you want to know?” asked Shiro. It wasn’t like Lance normally took an interest in his academics.

“Because it would be AWESOME!” enthused Lance. “Allura said she studies general relativity—you could learn how to make wormholes!”

“I think I would mostly be running simulations on accretion disks,” said Shiro.

“Yeah, but that’s still cool! And it’s about time someone realized how awesome you are!”

In the face of Lance’s brilliant confidence, Shiro didn’t have it in him to bring up any doubt.

“We’ll see,” said Shiro. “It’s been a busy week.”

Like _all_ weeks weren’t busy with them. Shiro opened the door to the apartment, and Hunk immediately bust out of the kitchen.

“Lance!” he yelled, embracing him in a bear hug.

“What happened?” demanded Keith, slouching forward, his sagging shoulders giving away his relief. “Did you get lost on the wrong floor again?”

“That happened ONE TIME!”

“And we’ll never let you forget it,” smirked Pidge.

“Worst. Siblings. EVER,” declared Lance, belly flopping onto the couch and causing Pidge to squawk as he sent her stuff spilling to the floor. He kept kicking his legs in the air Pidge tried to shove him off. “The _wooooooooorst_.”

With Lance back, the apartment rose to its usual level of noise and bickering. Shiro left them with the warning not to set anything on fire and excused himself to his and Keith’s room to try to make a dent in his homework. He kept one ear toned for any sound of trouble, but they were fine. Or at close to fine as they ever were. Shiro was chin deep in vector multiplication when there was a knock on the door.

Shiro looked up in surprise. That kind of respect for privacy was rare.

“Yes?”

Hunk stood in the doorway, something cradled in his hands, the other three squished around him.

“Um,” began Hunk. “So it’s not quite a year yet I guess, and an anniversary doesn’t quite make sense because like…it’s different for all of us, right? It took so long, and do we really want to celebrate for a whole month? I mean, I guess we could? Maybe? But I know today was kind of rough, so I thought…”

“Just spit it out, Hunk,” said Shiro. “What’s this about?”

“I— _we_ wanted to say ‘thank you’ for getting custody of us. And everything you’ve done. So, just—here.”

Hunk thrust out what he was holding, a plate of still warm cookies. “They were supposed to be chocolate chip, but we didn’t have any chocolate so…”

Shiro’s chest melted like hot wax.

“That’s fine, Hunk. This is amazing,” he said, voice thick. He got off his bed and glanced over the whole crowd in his bedroom door. “Did you all help?”

“ _Um_ …” said Pidge.

“We provided moral support!” chirped Lance.

Shiro snorted. “So they’re safe to eat then.”

“Like _you_ have any room to talk,” grinned Keith.

“Shut it, you,” said Shiro, flicking Keith in the middle of his forehead. He took the cookies and held them close. Was this what Hunk had been working on? For the first time all day, Shiro felt light inside. “Thank you.”

“It’s just…I know it’s not always easy with all of us,” said Hunk. “You didn’t have to. But you did, and I wanted you to know we appreciate it.”

Behind him, Pidge, Lance, and Keith nodded solemnly.

“It’s better with you,” said Keith with the kind of certainly only Keith could manage.

“As long as we’re together, right?” said Lance, his eyes bright.

That was their motto, the maxim they lived by when they were in the Zarkon house (Hell House, they called it now), when everything was terrifying and threatening and overwhelming. If they worked together, they’d win together. They’d survived five years of tyranny with that, and then three more when they were separated by the system until Shiro could get custody.

“Yeah,” said Shiro, smiling slightly. “As long as we’re together. We can do anything.”

He was met by four bright, faith-filled smiles and felt his heart swell.

They didn’t have much, but maybe…

They were going to be just all right.

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many headcanons about this universe you have no idea. So. MANY. I'm excited to start sharing. Leave me a comment or kudos if you enjoyed this! Or you can hit me up on my [tumblr](mckinlily.tumblr.com) if you'd like to chat!
> 
> Also a side note about therapists/counselors: Shiro thinks what he does because he's traumatized and because of past experiences. Therapy can and DOES help. The usual "opinion of the character does not equal the opinion of the author" applies here. Don't let Shiro here deter you from getting help if you need it. His perspective makes sense given what he's been through, but that doesn't make him right.


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